Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Written after reading about how Phil might never play the drums again. Which would make me sad. It would make me less sad if the spinal injury that precipitated this news hampered his shmaltzy songwriting rather than the ability to hold his drumsticks. Because, let's face it, he's a badass on the drums.

Phineas P. Gage (July 9?, 1823 – May 21, 1860)[n 2] was an American railroad construction foreman now remembered for his incredible survival of an accident in which a large iron rod was driven completely through his head, destroying much of his brain's left frontal lobe, and for that injury's reported effects on his personality and behavior—effects so profound that friends saw him as "no longer Gage."

Hey, there, o tens of readers. Sorry, I fell off the wagon for a bit. This whole getting-ready-to-be-a-dad thing takes up a fair amount of psychic energy. And the countdown continues...

Last year, I was part of a production at Intiman Theatre called Abe Lincoln In Illinois. I was onstage for most of the show, in my musician corner, and got to hear (and almost memorize) large sections of dialogue. One bit of dialogue that tickled me considerably was that of a country ruffian threatening a newcomer to their town for defaming President Andrew Jackson. This song goes out to Matt Shimkus (who's just become a dad himself). Link.